


Daughter of Unyielding

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [227]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Dead Allison Argent, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, King Sheriff Stilinski, Royal Derek Hale, Royal Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: Capturing the crown princess of Mieczyslaw was a priority, for who had the young royal had great power the swing the tides of war.





	Daughter of Unyielding

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, a fellow wanderer. Come, sit. Let the fire warm your chilled bones. The days a warm still, but the nights and the early mornings have turned cold, so, take care so you do not catch a cold. 
> 
> So, this batch of 15Minute stories were created back in the early days of August, but due to a lack of internet at the location, I was entrusted to post these stories once I was home, but I forgot while also thinking I had done it. It wasn’t until dear ItAlmostWorked! went on searching for a couple of stories that my mistake came into the unhappy light, and so here we are. 
> 
> Oh, dearest of hearts who are familiar with this series, please make your way to A Slight Change for you already know the name of the game that is 15Minutes, while all of you darlings who are unfamiliar with this series do stay with me for a little while so I can open your eyes to the horror you’ve stumbled upon. The 15Minutes series is a series of stories I’ve written as a payment of sorts to a group of friends, I’ve only got 15Minutes to write a story and so do not expect great things of the story you might wish to read, but be careful for each story is full of bad grammar and typos. If your sanity and heart cannot take bad writing then leave now and liv in blessed peace; but, if you dare to wander down the road of tale then follow me down to A Slight Change, for there is more to learn. 
> 
> A SLIGHT CHANGE in our usual show is the introduction of a theme, a theme which is Miserable, but worry not my loveliest of lovelies and bravest of souls, ItAlmostWorked! still had the power to make a few wishes when it came to her story such as always she wanted female Stiles Stilinski (and so if that isn’t your thing, run now and be happy), she wanted a fantasy universe where Stiles is a princess, the heir to the throne and all that, oh and she wanted some arranged marriage thing too.

The silence that fell between friends of many years was so absolute, it was the sort of silence easily branded unnatural by any present for it. Never before had such a silence fallen over this group of friends, the silence was bone chilling and it spread through them all as if their bodies were connected by some invisible string or gilded-chain.

Silence simply wasn’t a natural state for this lively bunch of youths who laughed and talked merrily whenever gathered, they bragged and joked with familiar ease regardless of who was around to hear them, they teased and snickered without shame or any consideration for others, they were never brought to silence in such a peculiar way.

This small group of young ladies and gentlemen were far too aware of their futures, far too conscious of the lack of freedom and to some a separation of rights once they reached a certain age, that to waste their younger-years on being good and proper behind the walls that held them caged until they were sent off to marry or to rule, and so they did their best to liv free and happy for as long as they could; this was the time when they were still able to hold some fragment of power and to do as much as they pleased, to speak as freely without feeling the weight of the future and expectations on their shoulders, and the Circle granted them most of their desired freedoms only intervening and correcting their behavior if their virtue was at stake, or rather when the virtue of the young ladies were in danger. 

The silence that had fallen between these young souls who had a path set in stone since birth or early youth, it was complete in ways that had never been, it was so solid in its unforgiving presence that it brought a heaviness with it that nearly sent some of them to their knees.

Wide eyed each of them gazed at the man who had with armed men wearing the heavy and light armor of House Argent, these men who were all armed and battle hardened had come to ruin a day that had in the early hours of dawn to be a fine day.

As the sun whispered past the snow-covered mountains, and reached the castle of the Circle, the group had all agreed that this was a day to grand to be wasted indoors amongst musty books and tiresome lectures, such a beautiful day was meant to be enjoy instead of wasting it away on understanding politics or the art of navigating through various social gatherings, or to understand the fundamental differences between the expectations set upon the different genders and families.

These armed strangers appeared as oblivious to the beauty of the day as they were of how truly dishonorable their actions were, blasphemous even as they marched into castle heavily armed, and no doubt invoking the wrath of the gods; the blood on their blades and armor was enough proof of how little they cared for what punishment their actions would bring from the all-might beings.

Although the young men and women did not know that these men had cut their way to them, spilling blood as they advanced deeper into the sanctuary, they could all see the blood staining the sharp blades.

The gathered friends huddled closer together at the sight of blood, too fresh to fool them into believing the blood spilled was long ago. With shaky hands they reached for each other, grasping on tightly to their most trusted companions. The young lords hurriedly moving to shield the young ladies from the searching gaze of the pale-eyed stranger who clearly was the leader of this group of dishonorable men in arms, there was something about the man that left no question that he was not one to suffer fools lightly.

Before addressing them, the man who in age could easily have fathered all of them, removed his helmet giving them all a good look at his face.

They could all easily recognize the man, be it his portrait in the hall of Trees showed a much younger version of him, one less battle hardened and without the thick greying beard that needed a good trimming for in the state it and his graying hair was, one could easily mistake him for some low-born instead of the high-born he was. 

` I am here for one person, and one person only, ´ Christopher Argent, son of Jarl Gerard Argent the Unrelenting, declares with a voice full of unyielding authority while he as he moves to stand just a little bit closer to the small group of friends, one of the delicate cups breaking beneath the sole of his bloodstained boot.

There was something about the way Christopher Argent stood before them, that told them he would not be steered away from his duties regardless whether or not any of these young men and women had been close to his own daughter.

`I am here, and here alone for the daughter of the former King John Stilinski, ruler of Mieczyslaw. ´

`Former King? ´ the question falls almost immediately, carried to forth to his ears in a choked fashion, unease and fear ripe in the voice of one of the young females.

Argent turns his attention towards the young lady who had spoken, and although he had never met the girl, Argent had encountered her mother more than once and could see a resemblance between mother and daughter.

The girl was taller than her mother, matching almost the height of her father, which made her the tallest of the ladies standing before him, and yes only one of the young men towered above her.

Argent starts towards her, but the young men of who some were considered too important to face the field of battle while others were too young or of poor healthy to partake in games of war, all of them regardless of statues moved to stand between Argent and the only child of King John.

`Step aside. ´ Argent warned the young me, hand on his sword, `I will not hesitate to order my men kill each of you. ´

The threat is real, and it causes the young girl to pull herself free from the hold of her friends and walk around the wall of youths who were as unarmed as they had been on the day they were born.

Doing her best to mask her fear and the grief that had already begun to bloom in her chest, the young lady stepped forth with her head held high, her back was straight and she appeared almost proud and regal at that moment, reminding Argent that she had been born and bred to one day rule Mieczyslaw with her husband; it also reminded him that she was a Stilinski, and the Stilinski’s grieved with grace and they were expected to grieve long, and this girl had worn the mourning colors since two days after the her birth when her brother perished, and even still she wore the color black upon her ghostly pale skin.

Argent thinks grimly that the girl would wear the color black for another seven-years while the girl comes to stand before him, eyes-like amber glaring at him as she addresses him none-too-kindly.

`What do you know of my father, Argent. ´ and a man of weaker control might’ve lashed out at her for speaking to him with so little respect or kindness, but Christopher could see the grief in her eyes and knew this was but a child still, a child who knew she’d lost another parent and was simply lashing-out; he’d seen this before when his own daughter had suffered the loss of her mother, and faintly he thinks he’d been far more hellish to bare when his mother had died birthing his little brother, a runt who died soon after.

Christopher Argent had also had a destructive turn when the message of Allison’s untimely passing had reached him, and he’d raged for days after her was entombed, and so he remains steady and calm before the grief reshaped in anger.

`Well, speak! ´ she barks at him, and Christopher doesn’t miss the way one of the males, a tall young man who looks as though he could be the son of Lord Lahey, but she pulls her hand from his and demands an answer from Christopher.

`Your highness, I bring news of King John Stilinski’s passing. ´ he expects her to sway, to faint, to cry but the girl only stands tall, hands clenched into tight fists at her side.

`He died bravely in battle. ´ he continues, leaving out the long and painful death the King suffered, or how he’d cursed both Christopher and his father with his last breath, there were things young ladies did not need to know.

With care Christopher unbinds the small pouch he had been carrying, his father did not know he’d taken the sun-star which was made out of gold and the canary-yellow diamonds, and as he handed the large piece of jewelry worn by each King of Mieczyslaw since it was a kingdom to be ruled, he had spent the previous two nights carefully cleaning the blood off of it instead of resting.

Offering the sun-star to the hauntingly pale lady, who remained standing as if she was forged from different metal than most women and men, Christopher gives his condolences as is expected.

`I am sorry for your loss, your highness, and…´

While she swiftly snatches the sun-star from his hand, and brings it close to her heart while twisting her body as if trying to hide the jewel from his reach, thus reminding Christopher of those street-rat back home which always feared that the piece of bread given to them would be taken away, there is still that fire of anger in her eyes as she snarls directly at him.

`You and your family bathe in the blood and grief of others, ´ and Christopher had not expected this and his causes him to stand-up straight, and he has to remind himself that the girl is grieving to avoid saying something unkind.

`So, forgive me, if I refuse to believe that your heart is capable of feeling any degree of sympathy towards anyone who isn’t of your own flesh and blood. ´

Christopher can’t deny that he rarely feels any twinge of sympathy or sadness for the sorrows and pains suffered by those not bound to him by marriage or blood, but he’s also a man who watched his daughter mourn terribly the loss of her mother, and is aware that this girl had just lost the last-member of her family be it by his hands. He is also aware now that it was this girl who had risked her own life to tend this his sick daughter during her time at the Circle, and that it was this girl who had then bathed and dressed Allison for her journey home. The delicate crown of flowers and herbs had masked the stench of death when his daughter came home, the ointments had preserved her well-enough to fool him to think briefly due to the lack of death stench that Allison was but a sleep on a bed of flowers and herbs. He’d learned from the Priestess who had accompanied Allison that this girl standing before him in black, had gifted the gilded dress his daughter was wearing from her own wardrobe a dress King John had made for his own daughter to wear on the day she was to return home.

This young lady, the last of the Stilinski-bloodline, had been generous and kind to his dying daughter and cared for her when life had left her, and how had Christopher repaid her kindness? He’d brought her father down, and under the orders of his won father, Christopher had tortured him in hopes of him signing the decree Gerard wished the King to sign into law but King John Stilinski was not one easily broken and so kept true to his name of John Stilinski the Unyielding.

Breathing in a slow and deep breath, Christopher gives the young lady a short nod and then a small bow before addressing her once more.

`Your highness, ´ he does not miss the wrath of anger most grand, but choses to ignore it since time was short and surely by now the Hale’s would’ve learned of the Kings death, `I am not her simply to deliver you the news of your fathers passing. ´

`The KINGS passing. ´ she roars at him, and he instinctively reaches for the silver and wolfsbane laced blade at his side, for the sound of her voice was close enough to that of those of beast-blood that he thought her one of them for a moment, but her movements lack the predatory grace of those beasts.

`I apologize, your highness. ´ Christopher says then, bowing his head once more but he does catch the narrowing of her eyes as suspicion seeps into her.

`Tell me why is it _you_ who has brought me this news? ´ and Christopher stills in mid-bow and he had wished her grief would’ve been to great for her to think to greatly on who delivered her this grim news.

`Why isn’t, ´ and here she starts to step-back from him, ready to no doubt run to the inner sanctuary where she could stay safely locked away until hunger or thirst would drive her to surrender, but Christopher grabs her by the wrist and pulls her to him, capturing the other wrist as she moved to hit him. His men are swift to come to stop any acts of foolish braver from the young lords.

`Let go of me! ´ the girl shrieks, before stomping her foot hard on his poor foot, but he has suffered far worse injuries in his life to release her from his hold due to inconvenient pain.

`I am here to fetch you, your highness. And fetch you I will. ´ Christopher informs her, watching her strike his housecarl with her head as the poor man comes to bind her hands, breaking his nose and to say that Chris is a little surprised and impressed would be an understatement.

Spitting him in the eye like some common wench off the street the girl hisses furiously, `Your daughter was a filthy liar, just like all Argents are! ´

There’s a snap inside his head, and before he’s even registered what he’s doing his hand has already struck the future queen of Mieczyslaw across her delicate face, and if he wasn’t still holding her by one of her wrists she would’ve fallen to the ground, instead she’s simply dazed enough to bring her to her knees while the outraged chorus rings out around them. He regrets his actions even without the looks he is given by his own housecarl who bonds the wrists of the girl together, or the way some of his own men throw him glances of disapproval.

His stomach drops at the sight of her now torn lip, and the none too delicate imprint of his gauntlet upon her now marred skin. In all his years he has never struck a woman, and here he just hit one who was in the middle of grieving the loss of her father.

`You can all judge me later, if your dare. ´ Christopher growls at his men, at everyone in the small garden before pulling the still dazed girl up on her feet, his housecarl is quick to try and support her while Christopher puts his helmet back on his head, ` but now we must leave. ´ and with that he throws the girl over his shoulder and carries her off as if she was but a prey he’d caught while hunting.

They needed to reach the safety of their own hold before the McCall’s would come after them, or worse the Hale’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I’m going to try and explain a few things such as I really struggled to get started with this story, my mind just drew a massive blank and I started to just write nonsense.
> 
> So, the Circle is a sort of a school where young ladies and gents become the fine young men and women expected off of them, some have been there since early childhood while others are sent there later in life, at times due to plagues that have swept over the land in hopes of protecting the young heirs (which was why Allison was sent to the circle), and some of high-birth but who aren’t expected to inherit the family wealth and so on are also sent here but are educated to become part of the so-called staff; while children of low-birth that have been orphaned or born out of wedlock might be sent here to become servants, or if a bit more lucky and gifted guards of the circle and with that a door is open to possibly escaping the circle by becoming the personal guard of one of the lords or ladies.
> 
> The Hale’s are a mighty royal family of Beacon Hills, and Talia’s heir to the throne is of course one of her daughters since the crown is passed down from mother to daughter, while in Mieczyslaw the crown is passed down usually to the first-born (regardless of gender) but if the first-born is proven weak of mind or body the crown can be passed down to the second-born and so on. Still, there is this tradition where the future Queen is to be married before taking the throne, due to the falls believe she needs a man to help her rule (yeah, that rule angers the young princess a great deal, since she’s not a weak and feeble woman), and so Stiles was arranged to marry one of the male Hale’s to ensure she has a strong man at her side but also to keep peace between their kingdoms. 
> 
> Jarl Gerard Argent has been against mixing the royal and pure-blood of the Stilinski’s with the likes of the Hale’s, the thought of a Hale-dog in the throne-room and ruling over him and having to address the beast as something other than a filthy-dog has been making his blood-boil for years now, but it is the thought of having a mutt one day be the king or queen of Mieczyslaw that has driven him down the traitors path; he’s spent years building an army of men and supporters to help him undo the mistake his King has made, and so he is quick to send his son to fetch the princess before the Hale’s can get their hands on the girl, and he intends to have the girl married and declared queen as soon as possible. Not that Stiles is going to play nice with his son, since she’s the sort of young lady who takes a great deal of offense at being kidnapped.


End file.
